


Handle With Care

by i_am_a_hog



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [38]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Everybody is a mess, M/M, Massages, Mental Illness, Recovery, Scars, idk how to tag this, okay so there is porn in the epilogue, only caiaphas is somewhat keeping it together, post-resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 13,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Judas has learned how to live without Jesus and without their movement. But then, with one knock at his door, everything changes.





	1. Judas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Freddy has been writing Jesus fic basically non-stop for a year! This is a thank-you to all my loyal readers (of whomst there are about 10) and all those who occasionally pop by. This also goes out to every newly obsessed person or even just casual readers: Thank you <3  
> A special thank you at this point goes to the friends I have made through JCS. I love you all and immense amount.   
> The title comes from the Traveling Wilburys Song because 1. I have no ideas at this point, given that I wrote the last 6500+ words of this in one sitting and 2. it's kinda accurate.   
> And now! Happy (or not) reading!

Judas is at home. It is not much, but he can call it a home, something he has not had in a long time.

It is just a small kitchen, a tiny bathroom and a living room. It is not the cleanest or tidiest of spaces, but he can live with it. He has to.

Judas cannot afford more.

He has just finished cleaning up after his sparse dinner of bread and cheese and is on his way to bed, checking his phone for any news.

The cracked screen flickers before the screen lights up. Quickly, Judas unlocks it, the motion automated. He has no new messages; he barely knows anybody, cut ties with everybody from before. He is anonymous now.

Judas switches off the light and walks over to the mattress on the floor. It is still not dark; yellow light from the street lights filter through the stained window. Judas is sitting on the edge of the mattress and listens to the sounds outside. The faint murmur of voices, a woman shouting something, a man arguing back. He hears steps going by and the distant rushing of a train over the ever-present humming of cars.

It reminds him of nights when these noises were the only thing keeping him sane. When those noises seemed out of place in a world so torn apart.

Judas is okay now. He has had time to get through the pain. Time to heal. There are scars, but they do not burst open anymore.

Judas closes his eyes and leans backwards against the cold wall. He is finally at peace. His breaths are even and there is a small smile on his face. Despite the odds, he feels like his life might take a more positive turn soon. He is ready.

The sharp knock on the door feels like a punch to the throat. Judas scrambles to his feet, anxiety welling up in him. What if somebody found him, somebody who might not want to leave him unharmed. He checks his phone again, leaves it on the mattress; he will need both hands if he has to defend himself. He grabs an umbrella. It is the closest object he can reach; his fingers are hurting with how tight his grip is, his hands are trembling. Judas’ panic nearly makes him choke. He should just surrender.

Determination suddenly overcomes him. He approaches the door and peers through the spy hole. It is dark, Judas cannot make out anything clear. He is about to open the door, reaching for the lock, but in this moment, another knock shakes the door and Judas jumps back. He knows he is going to regret this, but that has never stopped him. Before he can reconsider his decision, Judas unlocks the door, turns the doorknob and grips the umbrella tightly, holding it up. He knows, he will not stand a chance if they really want to harm him.

His entire body tensed up, Judas opens the door.

The umbrella makes a clattering noise as it hits the floor.

Judas is stumbling backwards, hands over his mouth. Still, a noise came over his lips, before he could silence himself. He stumbles against his table, braces himself with one hand, the other still clasped over his mouth.

Voice quiet, broken, rough, Jesus speaks.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”


	2. Mary

Mary misses the past. Now, she is always yearning. She misses those few months when she felt like she had a place in the world, somewhere she belonged. It was hard, life as a rebel. It was dangerous but that same danger brought with it thrills Mary cannot experience nowadays.

She was in love. With their cause, with the taste she got of true freedom. She was in love with Jesus. There is no denying it and Mary is not ashamed to admit it, but sometimes she wishes desperately for emotional detachment.

Anyway, Jesus never loved her. Sure he loved her like he loved everybody, a love so burning and intense, most could not stand it; Jesus who used his love like a weapon, their weapon of mass destruction. Jesus loved like there was no tomorrow, but his love for Mary was no different from anybody else. She saw it flashing in his eyes, felt it in his embraces and heard it in his words. But Mary was aware that Jesus loved nobody like he loved Judas.

She regrets telling Jesus about Judas’ whereabouts, she regrets everything; Judas trusted her to keep that secret, made her the last string that connects him to their old life. He has recovered now. He seems better. Sometimes she sees him from afar; the city is not that big, but she never approaches him. Mary lives alone, but she is still in contact with the other survivors. It is Peter, she sees the most frequently, but even those visits are limited to once every few months.

Jesus sought her out, his soul still burning within, his eyes still sharp, but something has changed; he is so deeply hurt that he will never be the same. She took him in, worked harder for a few weeks to keep them both alive, but then he took off and she has not seen him in months.

Occasionally he texts to let her know he is still alive. He has not texted in two weeks.

Mary goes about her day too busy to worry about herself, much less somebody else. But at night the doubts creep inside her mind and consume her every thought. At night her mistakes catch up with her and more often than not she cries herself to sleep. It is not pretty, but she lives and she keeps on fighting, even if the enemy is within her own mind.

She yearns for distraction, for a cause, for a fight, but she knows that time is over. She yearns for recognition and validation. But most of all she yearns for love, for tenderness. It is not easy to swallow down those desires, but Mary manages. Others have it worse.


	3. Judas

Judas feels paralysed. He cannot move, cannot speak, just stares at Jesus while everything he has ever felt comes welling up. All his scars burst open, bleeding pain and memories they had contained. All his agony, all the terrors go directly to his brain, shutting it down with something that is far worse than the panic: Dread.

Judas remembers the last time he saw that face. He remembers the beard, the eyes that have seen too much, the cracked lips and unkempt hair. Jesus was a raw power then; nothing could possibly contain him. He had to go out. And he did.

And Judas put it behind himself, even though it was his fault. Judas learned to disregard what could not be changed. Judas moved on.

He feels pathetic now, because faced with the biggest error of his life and the memories of recognising it for what it is, he wants to escape.

Not this situation. Judas wants to escape life. To be at peace, finally is his greatest desire. And now, sitting in front of him, pleas in his eyes and blood in his mouth this peace is losing any last chance, if it ever had one in the first place.

“Judas,” Jesus says, pain slurring his words, like it clouds his eyes.

But his voice is the same; the way Judas’ name is coming over his lips is the same. Judas would recognise it among millions.

“How?” he manages to say, even though his throat feels closed up with tears that are threatening to spill over. _How did you find me?_ , he means; _How are you alive?_

His hand is painfully clenched around the edge of the table, the other still covers his mouth. He does not know if Jesus even heard him.

Judas forces himself to relax. He is letting go off the table, takes shaking steps forward never taking his eyes off Jesus, who looks so different and yet so clearly like himself.

He has closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Judas steps past him and peers down the dimply lit street. Everything looks peaceful in the warm orange light of the street lamps.

“They didn’t follow me.”

Judas does not dare ask who.

“Come,” he says. His voice is weak.

He steps past Jesus again, into the comfort of his home. Comfort, he thinks, how ironic. There is no comfort from what he feels.

Judas switches on the light, while Jesus limps into the flat after him. Judas would have helped him, would have reached out and grabbed him under his arms to stabilise him. But the thought of touching Jesus freaks Judas out now. It would make everything so much realer.

He turns back around to lock the door. He checks twice, then pulls the curtains shut and takes a deep breath before he faces Jesus.

The man is sitting on the floor again and now in the light of Judas’ flickering lightbulb, the blood on his face and clothes is all the more red, screaming at Judas. _This is your fault!_

Jesus looks up at Judas and Judas resents him, because one glance and Judas back where he was the day after Jesus died. Or lived.

He is back at that point in his life, pain in every single one of his motions.

Judas knows now he will never be free.

Jesus’ eyes are still frighteningly exactly like Judas remembers them. Their deep colour pulling Judas in, but where this sensation was cleansing earlier, it now makes him recoil, feel like he is losing the precious control he has gained since Jesus was gone.

But he has changed. For one, Jesus has cut his hair. The strands are sticking to his forehead with blood and sweat. The beard is also gone. The second Judas thinks of this, he remembers the feel of it under his fingertips and on his skin. He remembers kisses he would rather forget. He remembers everything and he wants none of it.

“Do you need a doctor?”

Jesus shakes his head.

Judas is relieved, because he does not know a doctor. He trusts nobody; least of all he would trust somebody to treat Jesus. He turns to rummage in a drawer and pulls out a battered first aid kit. The box is breaking apart, but only a bandage or two are missing from it. The kit is one of the few things Judas kept from before.

Jesus is wiggling out of his jacket, hissing in pain. Underneath he is wearing a plain black t-shirt, torn and battered like Jesus himself. There is a large cut on his upper arm and the gash along his temple looks terrible. One of his legs also seems to be hurt and Jesus winces with every movement, but he could be worse. He has been worse.

Judas approaches him, kneels down and realises they will need better light.

He gestures over to the table. “Sit.”

He gets a lantern from a window sill and strikes a match to light it. Jesus is sitting on the chair shivering. It is not warm; Judas cannot afford to keep the heat on at night.

“Not there. Sit on the table.”

Judas only has one chair; Jesus sitting in that chair will position him awkwardly, so that Judas will be too short when kneeling and too tall when standing up.

Perhaps Judas could have put down the first aid kit a bit more gently, but he does not feel bad when Jesus flinched. He lets himself fall onto the chair, shifts to sit on his leg.

“Do I have to stitch this up?” he mutters to himself. It is not his first time doing stitches, but if it was up to him, he would never do it again.

Judas is dreading the blood, the sick feeling of tender flesh under his fingertips. He hates everything about this. He hates Jesus.


	4. Caiaphas

Annas is storming into the room and Caiaphas has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Somebody just got beaten up,” Annas is panting.

He looks dishevelled, as if he ran all the way here.

“Somebody always gets beaten up. That’s just the way it is around here.”

Annas rolls his eyes and Caiaphas regrets holding back earlier.

“No.”

“Yes. Every day we have reports of people being beaten up. Sometimes we see it.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Of course people get beaten up.”

Caiaphas is getting frustrated.

“Spit it out then.”

“They’re saying somebody beat up Jesus.”

What?

“What?”

“ _The_ Jesus.”

Caiaphas buries his face in his hands. It is nearly midnight; he does not know why he is even still here. His work can wait until the morning.

And now he is stuck here, listening to ghost stories.

“He’s dead.”

“Presumably,” Annas says and this time Caiaphas cannot resist rolling his eyes.

“Go home, Annas. Sleep. And then tomorrow think it over and give me some facts and don’t bother coming in.”

He knows his words are harsher than what Annas probably deserves, but Caiaphas is tired and the mere thought of Jesus is irritating him.

“Okay.”

Annas turns to leave. The door falls shut behind him and Caiaphas sighs. The hype, the coverage about Jesus just now died down. This is the possibly worst time for such ghost stories to pop up.


	5. Jesus

It hurts to see Judas so repulsed by him. Seeing him close to tears, backed into his flat to get as far away from Jesus as possible hurts more than the wound at his arm or the gash on his head.

Jesus is weak, dizzy from dehydration and loss of blood. He just wants to rest. But he cannot. He has nowhere else to go and Judas clearly does not want him here. The look in his eyes makes that clear.

Judas disinfected his hand with alcohol and it stings when he touches Jesus. It is a clean pain, unlike when Judas starts sewing. He did not offer Jesus pain killers. He probably does not have any.

The tears in Jesus’ eyes are a physical response to the pain but they are welcome to him, because Judas will not notice the tears of sorrow, of heartbreak, and of exhaustion that are also slipping by.

Judas spreads a gel over the wound, then wraps it up with a bandage. He proceeds to get a bowl of water and a cloth and starts to clean Jesus’ forehead. Jesus closes his eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks. But at least he does not have to watch Judas this way. At least now, he does not see the blue eyes and the face he missed for so long in so much detail. At least now, Jesus can fully submerge himself into the pain.

“You okay?”

Jesus nods and hisses at the sharp pain, that is shooting through his skull.

“Hm,” Judas mutters. Jesus knows that he cannot lie to Judas.

He only wishes, it had always been like that. Lying to Judas was too easy back then. Jesus fed them to him and Judas took them, like a starving man welcomed food.

All the lies about God and about his will; all the lies about purpose and fate when Jesus was just angry at anybody, an anger that gave him the gift of manipulation. He made people see his side, pulled them in and never let them go. He was deadly in his ambitions and he never missed his aim.

In a way, Judas was just another victim. In a way, he is so much more.

There was never any doubt to Jesus, that he loved Judas, not in the beginning and not until the very end. He knew that all that happened had to come the way it did and he knew it was not Judas’ fault.

The room is spinning when Jesus opens his eyes. Judas is looking at him, but there is no more of the adoration in his gaze, that Jesus has come to expect.


	6. Judas

His hands were shaking all the way through sewing Jesus up. They are not the cleanest, most even of stitches, but they will hold. Meeting Jesus’ eyes was a mistake. They are glassy, looking into the distance, but at the same time directly at Judas. There is so much in those eyes, exhaustion, sadness, pain, but most noticeably there are tears. Judas averts his eyes. He does not want to see. Every one of those emotions are his fault and now he is faced with them more closely than he could ever be comfortable with. His left hand is still touching Jesus, holding his head at the right angle. He pulls it back, looks down at his palms. There is blood on them, rusty-red smears and stains.

Judas scrubs at his hands but he knows that no matter what, he already had Jesus’ blood on his hands. When he returns to the other room, Jesus is still sitting on the table, staring ahead blankly. He is shaking.

Judas has a spare blanket in his closet. He spreads it on the floor. He does not feel like talking a lot, does not feel like talking to Jesus at all, but he motions to his mattress.

"I'll take the floor." He sees how Jesus wants to protest but he keeps glaring at him and for the first time in a long time Jesus keeps it inside and moves towards the mattress. His steps are not even, he is shaky on his legs, probably in more pain than he would ever show, but Judas has little capacity for sympathy at the moment.

Judas' motions are automated, as he walks to the kitchen and fills a glass with tap water. He carries it over to Jesus, puts it down next to him. He remembers that Jesus often wakes up thirsty at night and he does not want to get up before he has to go to work.

Jesus smiles at him and Judas averts his eyes. No.

He switches off the light and once again finds himself in the half darkness of his room. The warm light of the street lamps is illuminating the walls, casting long shadows, and usually Judas does not mind the light, he even finds it comforting. But right now he wishes for total darkness. He just wants to forget Jesus is here.

He cannot. He hears his breaths, hears him shuffling around. Then, when Jesus is finally quiet, Judas hears his own breath, hears his heart pumping. He thinks he can smell the blood but that is impossible; he washed it all off. Maybe the smell lingers in his hair. Judas fights down the urge to get up and impulsively cut it all off. He forces himself to pay less attention to himself. Concentrate on something else; anything else.

The floor is hard and cold under Judas; the blanket barely helps and Judas regrets letting Jesus sleep on his mattress. He does not deserve it, for showing up at Judas’ door like that. Judas is angry at him, angry at himself. Angry at Mary.

Who else could have told Jesus?


	7. Mary

Mary is lying awake. She has a bad feeling about something. She is not quite sure what.

Checking her phone does not provide any answers. Mary just continues to feel uneasy. It has been like this ever since Jesus returned. It was a miracle, really. A more believable miracle than any before. Because they had crucified him and Mary looked up the consequences of that practice: Death.

To this day, she is not sure, who nursed Jesus back to something resembling health. He is still broken, with a limp he will never shake and holes in his wrists, that permanently damaged his motor skills. She never even saw his back but it must be severely scarred from the lashing he received. He should not have survived. And yet he did.

Mary wants to tell him that she is sorry for not being there for him more, but she does not know how to contact him now. And in those days when he first showed up at her door, beads of sweat running down his face, mixed with painful tears of exhaustion, Mary could not operate normally. She was shaken up by his appearance – and the mere fact that he was alive.

Wherever he is now, Mary knows that Jesus is still alive. But she is not sure if that is the best thing for everybody involved.


	8. Jesus

Jesus wakes up in the middle of the night. His temple is throbbing and so is the wound at his arm; he shifts to lie on his other side. It does not get better. Hesitantly, he opens his eyes. Judas is no longer next to him; Jesus wonders where he has gone, but he does not want to move. He regrets coming here now. Judas has obviously moved on.

He is thirsty, wonders if he should get up and get himself a glass of water, but when he turns to get up, he sees the glass next to the mattress and remembers how Judas put it there.

In a terrible bout of misplaced emotion, Jesus’ heart skips a beat, then races, because Judas remembered and the significance of that only seems to hit Jesus now. Judas remembered after all those months, after the years since Jesus last slept near him… with him.

They broke apart long before things escalated, but back then Jesus pulled back to protect Judas. Instead he only destroyed everything between them. His own feelings however, never went away.

Jesus wants to tell Judas, just to make things clear between them; he wants to confess, secretly hoping it will turn out like the last time he did. He wants to tell Judas how it pained Jesus to turn him away. How he only wanted the best.

He knows Judas will not want to hear it.

The first time Jesus confessed his feelings, he was not planning to. It just happened in the moment, completely unprompted. Of course, Jesus was aware of his feelings at the time but Judas was his advisor, they were working together to support the movement Jesus had started. Judas knew how to get the crowds moving and Jesus simply did the moving itself. Judas knew how to get them to succeed, he had a clear vision and a plan. His vision largely concurred with what Jesus believed in; so, Judas was perfect.

He was also perfect as Jesus got to know him better and so, the words left his mouth too easily, too freely, when they were arguing about their next moves in Jesus’ room one night. He might have had too much wine, but Jesus was aware what he was saying and he meant every word.

“I love you,” he led with. Not the most wise of decisions. Judas looked at him as if Jesus was out of his mind. Maybe he was.

“Have for a long time now, and I just wanted you to know. Just… so you know, in case…”

Jesus’ slightly inebriated brain could not come up with a subtle ending to this sentence. But Judas was already moving, taking Jesus’ face between his hands, going in for the best first kiss, Jesus ever had.

Jesus does not know why he is even hoping for something like that again. He ruined their relationship too long ago for anything to happen now. Too much happened in between.

Jesus takes a few gulps of the water, feeling it go down, and wishes Judas were here at least, so he could look at him and play out in his mind how he would apologise.   
Jesus’ entire right side is hurting, as are his ribs and his left ankle. His muscles are burning with every inch he moves and every breath makes him want to curl in on himself and stop existing.

But Jesus just continues to exist, on and on it goes, no matter how bad it gets, no matter how often he gets beaten down or even tortured, left to die. Somehow, Jesus just cannot stop existing.

It is a terrible curse more than any blessing life could ever be.


	9. Judas

Judas cannot sleep, so he decides not just to lie there and dwell on his mistakes. He needs to clear his head, leaves the flat in the hopes that Jesus will no longer be there when he returns. He walks and walks, past all the places he once fought at, all the sites he knows too well, because he scanned every corner for well-situated hiding spots. Memories come up in him, that he would rather forget; the bloodied faces of his friends, the sounds of cracking bones, the contrast between the fire in their eyes before and the gaping empty stares after a fight.

All that is over now.

And tonight it all came back. Exhausted, Judas slumps down against a cold wall. He closes his eyes.

He does not cry.

“Hey!”

Judas opens his eyes and suddenly the world is flooded in daylight. Above him towers a man that that looks like he could get extremely uncomfortable for Judas. He scrambles to his feet and tries to remember why on earth he woke up leaning against a dirty wall in the middle of the city.

“I’m sorry. Won’t happen again,” he mutters.

“Don’t you have a home?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Then what are you doing, sleeping in the street?” The man looks more irritated than angry at this point.

_Jesus. I was not there because Jesus is at my place._

“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry, won’t happen again,” he repeats and hurries past the guy before he can ask any uncomfortable questions.

He is late for work already, so Judas breaks into a jog and reaches the construction site he is currently employed at, mere minutes later.


	10. Jesus

Jesus wakes and he is still alone. He sits up and shakes his head. He wants to run his fingers through his hair, wipe it out of his face, but his hands hurt; in fact his entire arm hurts, and his wrists are always stiff in the mornings.

Jesus looks around and takes in the room for the first time. The blanket on the floor serves as a reminder of who should be here but is not. Warm rays of sunlight shine through a dusty window and onto the wooden floorboards. Jesus shivers. The apartment is still cold, because the sun has not yet managed to heat it up for the day. Slowly, Jesus shuffles off of the mattress and into the warm light. The only downside to this is the cold floor underneath his legs, but as the minutes pass, Jesus slowly closes his eyes and relishes the gentle warmth on his skin.

With this warmth and the slow process of really waking up, Jesus’ wrists start so loosen up, he moves them, hisses in pain, but they work. They will work today; he is sure.

Slowly, he gets up and limps to the small bathroom. His feet are hurting worse than his wrists today, the holes in his heels make standing upright agony; some days they feel worse than the clean pain of having them nailed to the cross.

But Jesus eventually manages to clean himself up and limps into the kitchen. He is not sure if Judas would want him to leave, but he cannot possibly do so in broad daylight, so he gets himself a slice of bread and moves back into the living space to sit in the sun.

There is not much to do, so Jesus keeps drifting off throughout the day and when the sun no longer shines into the room, he wraps himself into Judas’ blanket and sits on the mattress, huddled in comfortable warmth.

The turn of a key in the front door startles him.

Jesus opens his eyes and sees Judas walk in, a bag of food hanging from his arm. He kicks the door shut and his gaze falls upon Jesus. He does not smile but he also does not frown, so Jesus counts that as a victory.

Judas does not speak to him as he sets the groceries down onto the table and goes to wash his hands. He strips down quietly, a cloud of dust rising from his clothes as they fall to the ground and he gets himself some fresh clothes, all while Jesus keeps watching him. He feels like he should look away, but he cannot. Judas is as mesmerising as always.

Eventually, he steps away into the kitchen and Jesus closes his eyes again.

He must have drifted off, because when Judas shakes his shoulder and Jesus jerks up, the smell of a hearty stew fills the room and there are two bowls next to the mattress.

“You have to eat,” Judas says.

Jesus nods and reaches for one of the bowls, but his hands give in and he nearly drops it. Judas is quick to catch it and set it into Jesus’ lap.

“Fuck,” he says and Jesus looks up at his face. It is twisted with emotions, filled with pity and regret and anger and rage, but Judas lets none of that show in his movements, when he passes Jesus one of the spoons.

“You gonna be ok?” Judas’ voice nearly breaks.

Jesus nods again.

They eat in silence. The food is good. Simple but good; Jesus takes way longer than Judas to eat, so now their roles are reversed. Judas just stares at him. It is clear that he wants to say something but neither of them speak up. Only when Jesus finally empties the last of his stew, Judas speaks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Jesus looks at him, confused.

“I mean… I don’t know, you came into my life like this but still, you wouldn’t be like this,” he gestures to Jesus’ hands. “if it weren’t for my actions and…” Judas looks away into the distance, careful not to meet Jesus’ eyes. “And I didn’t think I’d get to tell you that I was sorry and made a mistake. So I just wanted to let that go.”

“It’s okay,” Jesus says and he means it. They cannot change the past.

The look in Judas’ eyes is one of insecurity, but Jesus manages a smile.

“I’m sorry too. I should not have come here.”

Judas averts his gaze and Jesus knows that he agrees.


	11. Caiaphas

When Annas came back in the morning, he was still convinced that it was really Jesus that was caught in a street fight the night before. Caiaphas told him not to worry about it.

“I will handle it.”

Now he is sitting at his desk, wondering just what exactly he is supposed to handle. Jesus is dead. There were autopsy reports.

Caiaphas shakes his head. This is not the first time there are rumours about a dead man being back, but the fact that this rumour is about Jesus makes it dangerous.

He picks up the phone and dials Annas’ number.

“Tell me the specifics.”

When he reaches the street where the fight was supposed to have taken place, Caiaphas sees nothing out of the ordinary. He peers into a dumpster, sees a broken cane and the usual bags full of rotting garbage. He turns away quickly.

The smell follows him, makes him close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he looks down at the cracked pavement and sees… blood.

Normally, he would never have spotted it. Something definitely happened here and maybe Annas’ story has some truth to it. Now Caiaphas cannot let it go anymore. He cannot let this slide with even this shred of evidence.


	12. Judas

Weeks go by and Jesus is still here. He did not leave and Judas does not really want him to. They do not talk much, but the silence is not uncomfortable anymore. They are healing, their relationship is healing and with each passing day, Judas finds it harder to shut Jesus out, to not care, harder to hate him like he did.

But Jesus is not healing. He might smile at Judas or even joke every now and then, but he is still struggling to hold a glass of water or a plate with food. Jesus is not the same as he was. In his condition, Judas is not sure how Jesus even managed to carry himself to Judas’ door that night because some days Jesus barely makes it from one end of the room to the other – and Judas’ apartment is not big by any standards.

And on top of it all, Judas’ back is beginning to hurt. Every morning when he gets up from the floor, he needs longer to stand straight up and his physical work at the construction site does not help his problems in the least. And yet, it feels wrong to ask Jesus to switch places for even a day. The man is in more pain than Judas could ever imagine and it is all Judas’ fault anyway.

He wakes with a headache and does not want to move. His alarm is not helping either; with each note Judas’ head feels worse.

Sitting up is a chore already. He rubs his eyes and grimaces towards the window, that is only slightly illuminated by the beginning sunrise.

“Are you okay?” Jesus asks from beside him and for a second, Judas wants to snap at him, tell him that _No, he is not okay, he is actively being killed by the floor!_ But he keeps it together and just nods. The nod already makes him dizzy from pain shooting through his head.

“Yeah,” he groans and drags himself to his feet.

When he comes out of his tiny bathroom, damp hair pulled into a loose pony tail, so that the strain does not add to his headache, Jesus has somehow managed to set the table and toast a few slices of toast for both of them. And he is smiling at Judas.

“I know you’re lying,” he says. “Headache?”

Judas nods and again the pain spikes up.

“I’m just a bit tensed up, is all,” he mutters. He does not want Jesus to worry over him.

“You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.”

“No, it’s fine, really.”

Jesus looks at him with obvious disbelief written all over his face.

“We’ve slept in smaller beds together,” Jesus says and motions over to the mattress.

Judas does not answer; he has not thought about that possibility at all, and if he is being honest, he would rather not sleep in the same bed as Jesus, but his headache acts quick to make him accept the offer. For now.

“Okay,” he replies, before stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth and rushing out the door. He is already late and after last time, he does not have many second chances left.


	13. Jesus

He is alone at home – he does not know when Judas’ apartment became home – when a knock comes at the door.

Jesus is alert at once. He has become used to spending all his days alone, uninterrupted until Judas comes home. Another knock. Jesus’ hands are shaking as he makes his way to the door and looks through the spy hole.

A young man is standing there, parcel under his arm.

Relieved, Jesus opens the door.

“Is this Thomas Marian?”

Jesus hesitates, before he realises that this is probably Judas’ way of evading recognition.

“Uh, yeah,” he eventually offers and notices the boy looking him up and down sceptically, before his face goes back to neutral and he pulls out a device.

“Sign here, please.”

_T. Marian_ , Jesus writes and is not at all content with how it looks because he has not held a pen in a long time and the letters are barely recognisable as such. Had the pen not been attached to the device, it would have fallen to the floor, but the delivery man just thrusts the parcel into Jesus’ arms and turns around.

“Have a nice day,” he mutters, half turning back to Jesus.

“Thanks,” the latter breathes and closes the door. He cannot move his legs, just slumps down against the door, parcel clutched against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants out. His heart is pounding in his chest and he does not feel well at all. What if the boy recognised him?

Jesus does not know how long it takes him to get up, but eventually, he goes back to his day. Composing texts in his head, watching a bit of television on the battered phone Judas left here for him, and waiting for him to get home.


	14. Judas

He gets home and sees Jesus, slouched into his usual corner on the mattress, looking at his phone.

“Hey,” he says.

Jesus looks up and puts away his phone. He struggles to get to his feet, but eventually limps over to the table. It hurts Judas to see Jesus like this, but he also has no idea how to help.

“Hi.” Jesus is smiling. “Something came for you… Thomas.”

Judas frowns, then his gaze fell on the packet that sat on the table.

“Thomas what?” he asked.

“Thomas… Marian?” Jesus replied, unsure.

Judas took a deep breath, then allowed himself to laugh.

“Yeah.”

“What?” Jesus wanted to ask.

“I’m not using this as a pseudonym. I’m still Judas Iscariot on paper.”

“Then why?”

“Mary thinks we’re still being monitored, so we shouldn’t communicate among each other with our real names. Whenever she sends me something, she puts her name somewhere so I’ll know it’s her.”

Jesus nods. Then his eyes widen.

“Wait!” He bends down to look at the parcel, then back at Judas.

“Shit, I wrote it wrong.”

Judas cocks his head, waiting for an explanation.

“I had to sign with the delivery person and I wrote it with an ‘i’ instead of ‘y’.”

Judas smiles at him. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they don’t check those signatures.”

He pulls a knife from his pocket and begins to cut the tape.

Inside is a bottle, a few bank notes and a lot of tissues, presumably to protect the bottle. It looks expensive; Judas does not know why she sent him this, let alone the money. When he closes the box, he notices a note taped to the lid.

_Judas,_

_I hope, you’re doing alright. I have a feeling, you might need this; his feet must be killing him._

_I am so sorry for telling him, I don’t know why I did that and I understand if you don’t trust me anymore. In that case, see this as a farewell gift._

_If you decide otherwise, I would like to come and see him, please. Only once._

_With love,_

_Mary_

Judas nods and sets down the paper on the table, then picks up the bottle. It has a hand-written label and looks like high-end massage oil.

Jesus is still looking at him.

“Are you angry?”

Judas huffs out a laugh. “I know you can read me better than this.”

“You knew she told me?”

“I figured,” Judas shrugs. Jesus nods and sits down on the chair.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know where else to go. I wouldn’t have made it any further and… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have come here without warning.”

Judas goes down on his knees, almost on instinct and gently lays his hands on Jesus’ shoulders.

“It’s okay. I’m over it.” He pulls Jesus down into a hug, feeling trembling hands settle against his back.

“Nothing you could ever do to me would ever be as bad as what I did to you.”

Judas’ tears come quietly, streaming down his cheeks with every memory of the irreversible damage he has done to Jesus, the pain he has brought him and the forgiveness he has been met with. It is more than he deserves.

“It is what it is,” Jesus whispers into Judas’ hair and it is obvious that he is crying too.


	15. Caiaphas

Caiaphas should go to sleep. Since his search the day before, he has had less than 2 hours of rest but how can he rest if Jesus might be alive? Suddenly, a knock comes at his door and a boy with short brown hair steps into the office, clad in something vaguely resembling some kind of uniform.

“Who let you in?” Caiaphas asks. Maybe he is being too harsh, because the boy takes a step back and stammers “Annas.”

“So?”

“I… I think I saw Jesus.” When Caiaphas does not answer, the boy adds: “Of Nazareth.”

“I know who you mean,” Caiaphas snaps. “Go on.”

“I… I was delivering a parcel and he opened the door.”

Caiaphas raises an eyebrow. So far the boy has proved nothing.

“So?” he repeats.

“He looked like Jesus. Except he had short hair. And no beard but I swear it was him. But I didn’t realise until I saw the signature. The parcel was addressed at some Thomas Maryan. But look at this!”

He thrust his phone at Caiaphas with a picture of a signature.

“He either wrote his own name wrong. Or he is not Thomas Maryan.”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then adds: “Plus the name tag at the door read J.I. I don’t know who that is but it doesn’t seem like Thomas Maryan to me.”

Caiaphas does not know what to say, The young man really made a compelling argument with far superior evidence than any Caiaphas has himself.

“Thank you,” he says instead and reaches into a drawer. “Here, my card. Please send the picture to me. You’ve been a big help.”

The boy nods and hastily closes the door behind himself.

Caiaphas throws his head back and sighs. Now that he knows where Jesus might be, he is even more unsure as to how to proceed.


	16. Judas

They make it to the mattress eventually, still touching, as if to make up for the last weeks. They both cried, eyes puffy and red, but it feels like a weight has been taken from Judas. He feels better. Jesus is squeezing his hand and smiles.

“I made us pasta.” Judas turns around and looks towards the kitchen.

“Stay here, I’ll get it.” The last thing he wants is for Jesus to strain himself more than necessary.

Judas fills two bowls with pasta and some of the tomato sauce, grabs two forks and carries them back to Jesus.

“Thanks.”

They eat in silence.

As always, Judas finishes his portion first and gets out his phone so as not to pressure Jesus. When he hears him set down the bowl, he looks up. Jesus has a bit of tomato sauce smeared just under the left corner of his mouth and suddenly, Judas is hit with the overwhelming urge to lick it away and capture Jesus’ lips in a kiss.

Instead, he shakes his head, picks up their bowls and goes to do the dishes, stubbornly ignoring the heat, pooling in his stomach. Jesus does not want him like that anymore. That ended years ago.

Eventually, he steps back out into his living area, carrying a bowl of water, a cloth, and picks up the bottle of oil, Mary sent him.

Jesus is looking at him wide-eyed and Judas wants to tell him to stop, because this is doing all kinds of things to his heart, but he does not have it in him. He just smiles weakly and sighs.

“You’ve got sauce here.” He motions to his own lip and watches Jesus stick out his tongue in an attempt to lick it off.

“Almost,” he says, sitting down on the mattress next to Jesus. “Bit more to the left… no, your left.”

They both laugh and it feels good.

“Did I get it?” Jesus asks.

Judas nods.

He picks up the bowl and the cloth and motions toward Jesus’ feet.

“May I?” he asks. Jesus nods, his eyes still wide. Trusting.

Judas takes off the socks and pushes up the hem of Jesus’ trousers. He starts to wipe Jesus’ feet clean, noticing how tense they are, but stops when he comes to his heel. It does not look like a healed wound. Judas has seen the holes in Jesus’ wrists, and vaguely wondered how bad his feet must look, but he could not have imagined this mess. When he runs the cloth over the reddened wound, that has barely scarred and already looks incredibly painful, Jesus takes in a sharp breath, but he meets Judas’ eyes and nods again.

“I’m okay.”

He is not okay.

Judas proceeds more carefully with the other foot, then sets the cloth and water aside and reaches for the bottle of oil.

“I want you to tell me the second I hurt you,” he says and looks at Jesus.

“Okay.”

Judas pours a few drops into his hand, then screws the cap back on and spreads the oil in his palms. He does not know what he is doing; Judas has never given anybody a foot massage, but he begins by pressing down into the strained ball of Jesus’ foot and judging by the shivering breath that leaves Jesus’ lips, he is going in the right direction.

Judas continues, guided by Jesus’ reactions but is careful, not to come close to his heels. When he has worked his way over both feet, Judas stops.

“Do you want something for those heels?” he asks, but he has no idea what could help with a wound that old.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. You’ve already done so much.”

“You want me to do your hands, too?”

Judas looks up at Jesus and hopes the answer will be _Yes_.

Jesus smiles. “If you don’t mind.”

Judas moves closer immediately and takes Jesus’ left hand between his own. It trembles under his touch and Judas remembers those times when Jesus’ hands were still strong, their hold at Judas unbreakable. He remembers holding Jesus’ hand and being happy. But he shoves those memories away and starts kneading his thumb into the heel of Jesus’ hand. The small sound that escapes Jesus’ lips shoots through Judas’ body and makes his heart race.

He works Jesus’ hands as thoroughly as he did the tight muscles in his feet and at some point, they stop trembling. When he is done, Judas does not want to let go. His touch lingers fingertips tracing the lines in Jesus’ palm. They look so familiar. Judas does not know how he can possibly remember those minute details, but he does. And with those memories comes longing.

When he notices Jesus looking at him, eyes dark, gaze heavy with something Judas does not have the strength to deal with, he pulls back and scrambles to his feet. It has gotten dark outside.

“I should… we should sleep,” he offers as a weak explanation as he struggles to pick up the porcelain bowl with oily fingers.

“Together,” Jesus adds and immediately, Judas’ head snaps up.

“What?”

“I told you, you’ll no longer be sleeping on the floor,” Jesus says, his voice surprisingly resolute.

Judas just nods.


	17. Jesus

After Judas’ massage, Jesus has a hard time getting up to get ready for bed. But when he collapses back onto the mattress, teeth brushed and hands and feet clean again after being covered in oil, it was definitely worth it. He begins to drift off the second, his head hits the pillow.

Judas’ weight dips the mattress and Jesus instinctively wraps his arms around his middle, pulling him close. He is more relaxed than he has been in a long time, so he drifts off quickly.


	18. Mary

and Jesus again, but she will understand if Judas does not want that. She has her internet switched off most of the time. She cannot have her phone at her place of work, and once at home, she cooks, showers, and almost immediately falls asleep. But she does check her messages when her oven is heating up and she has one new message from a number she does not recognise.

_I’m free Sunday. You know where I live._

_-J_

She knows that she is being overly emotional, but she does not will away the tears that flood her eyes, lets them run down her cheeks instead. Crying feels good. She feels like she needed to do this. It is Thursday now, so she only has to get through two more day of guilt, before she can finally, properly apologise.

Mary does not taste her food, and she has a hard time falling asleep that night, but she does it anyway, because each passing second brings her closer to seeing Jesus.


	19. Judas

Waking up has never felt this good. For the first time in weeks, Judas’ back is not hurting and he is only slightly tense, when he stretches his arms out and –

“Ow!”

Judas turns around, facing Jesus. “Shit, I’m sorry, where did I hit you?”

Jesus is pressing a hand to his head. “Are the stitches okay?” he asks.

Judas squints, his eyes are still bleary and unfocused from sleep, but the stitches seem fine.

“Yeah.” He touches his fingers to Jesus’ temple and traces the wound. “We should take these out soon anyway. It looks alright to me.”

Judas hates taking out stitches more than doing them, because he is never completely sure if the wound is stable enough for the stitches to come out.

“Okay,” Jesus says and there is something in his voice that goes straight to Jesus’ groin. This is not good. Not good at all. And now that he thinks – and feels – this, suddenly his dream comes back to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and scrambles out of bed and into the bathroom.

Judas has not dreamed about touching Jesus in a long time. He thought he was done with this, thought he was over Jesus but Judas still feels dream-Jesus’ lips pressed against his own and dream-Jesus’ tongue running along his neck and dream-Jesus’ fingers wrapped around his dick.

And Judas is thinking that this is not a good sign at all, while he is standing under the shower, closing his own fingers around his dick.

He is aware, that he should not think about Jesus right now, but his brain is too muddled for Judas to have any kind of control over that. So his mind keeps jumping back to how Jesus looked at him the night before, how those little noises escaped his throat and how his skin felt underneath Judas’ fingers, while he keeps pumping his dick. And it does not take long before Judas comes all over his hand and, regrettably, the shower curtain, thinking of the soft brown of Jesus’ eyes and the sound of his voice.

There is a slight spring in Judas’ step when he exits the bathroom to make himself some breakfast.


	20. Caiaphas

Annas comes storming into his office and Caiaphas feels oddly transported back to when this first happened, weeks ago.

“So what do you think?” he asks an Caiaphas does not know what he thinks so he plays dumb in order to buy himself time to come up with an answer.

“About what?”

“About Jesus. About the guy who comes into my office and wants to get rid of some information about Jesus.”

“I don’t know, Annas. I honestly don’t know, but I’ll check up on it.”

“Keep me updated.”

Caiaphas rolls his eyes.

“I will.”

Annas is getting increasingly annoying about Jesus, because even if Jesus is still alive, he is not harming anybody; on the contrary, if what Annas is saying is correct, Jesus got beaten up in a back alley and people still want to kill him for it. It does not seem right to Caiaphas, so he has to check up on this hunch himself. Innocent people might get hurt. Because so far, Jesus has done nothing to bring attention to himself.


	21. Judas

The second night sleeping next to Jesus goes barely better than the first. Again, Judas wakes up with the aftertaste of dream-Jesus on his lips. Again he relieves himself in the shower, but then he shoves those thoughts aside, because he cannot have them at work. Work is the last place he wants to be thinking of Jesus, because it will only make time pass that much slower. Judas knows.

However, when he comes home that night and he sees that Jesus set the table and cooked dinner, his heart speeds up and will not calm down no matter how hard Judas wills himself to do just that. And then Judas realises that maybe – just maybe – there might be more to his dreams than merely that he is lying next to Jesus.

Judas still wants him. Judas never stopped wanting him, not really. It was Jesus who ended things between them.

* * *

 

“I don’t wanna have to do this,” Jesus said and Judas saw in his eyes that it was true. But that was not enough.

“Then don’t –“ he pleaded. He did not know what else to do. He could not force Jesus into anything.

“You can still… stay here. Live with me. Just not, you know… This movement, it’s growing and with it is the hate directed at it. And it will continue to grow and the last thing I want is for you to get caught in that hate,” Jesus said and Judas understood, but he still protested.

“There must be another way! I love you. And I won’t just stop loving you if we don’t fuck anymore. It’s not that simple! And if it is for you, then maybe I’m really better off without you.”

Judas had stormed out at that point and Jesus had not argued, Jesus had not protested. Jesus had continued doing his thing and Judas had followed. Until it all became too much.

* * *

 

Judas knew back then with absolute certainty, that he was right. But at this very moment, it all comes back and Judas realises that he still loves Jesus with all his mind and soul.

He smiles sadly as he changes from his work clothes into something more comfortable and joins Jesus in the small kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Hi. I made soup.”

“So I see,” Judas replies and resists the urge to close his arms around Jesus and never let go. “Are you okay standing up so much?”

Jesus shrugs. “If you give me another one of those massages later. My hands are killing me after I cut those carrots.”

“Shit,” Judas curses. “Come on, relax, sit down, I’ll do the rest.”

Surprisingly, Jesus does not fight him on it and limps past Judas to sit at the table.

Judas takes a spoon, tastes the soup, then adds some more salt carries it out together with some bread he just bought at a nearby bakery.

“Since when do we have this chair?” he asks when he sees the foldable chair in front of the table.

“It was at the corner with some more junk and I carried it in when nobody was out.”

Judas raises his eyebrows.

“Thanks,” he smiles and pushes a bowl of soup in Jesus’ direction.

Judas has trouble eating when he is emotional or anxious and the realisation from earlier is still sitting in his stomach, so when he finishes his portion, he looks up and Jesus is almost finished as well.

He stacks their dishes in the sink and tells himself, there will be time to do them later.

“So how about that massage?” he asks. Jesus looks up at him from the chair with the most adorable puppy dog eyes.

“Can you help me over to the bed?”

Even if that expression had not completely melted Judas’ soul, he would have helped, so he just smiles and extends an arm, Jesus clings to and together they make it to the mattress.

Judas gets a wet cloth and the massage oil and sits down at Jesus’ feet.

He does the same as last time, except he pays even more attention to Jesus, he watches his face, feels him move under his fingers and he hears the little puffs of breath. When Judas is done with his feet, takes Jesus’ hand and hears his breath hitch.

“Thank you,” Jesus whispers and Judas wants to go for it, he wants to lean in and kiss Jesus, he wants to hold him like he has not done in years and he wants to show him his love in every way possible.

“Anytime,” he says and hopes Jesus cannot read the real meaning behind this word.

When Judas is done, he does not know what to do. He cannot move away now and ruin the moment; he would never forgive himself. Instead, he lets his fingertips run up Jesus’ wrist, tracing past his scarred wrists.

“Is this okay?” he asks and Jesus is visibly holding his breath while he nods.

Judas has not seen the scars this closely yet. He hurts, just looking at them, and he feels Jesus beginning to pull away. He does not want Judas to see.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but Jesus shakes his head and holds Judas’ hand in place, when he wants to pull away.

“Don’t be,” Jesus whispers and moves closer. Closer.

Judas does not dare to move. He just stays still and loses himself in the beauty of Jesus’ eyes. It is too easy. But then they are too close and Judas instinctively closes his eyes. He feels Jesus’ breath on his lips, feels their noses bumping against one another, then Jesus’s lips are brushing against his and suddenly, Judas is no longer still; he moves, buries his fingers in the longer strands of Jesus’ hair, pulls his thumb over those cheekbones. It all feels so real, the taste of Jesus – chicken soup and apple juice – the feeling of his soft hair between his fingers and the little sounds, he makes, when Judas takes his bottom lip between his teeth

“Oh god,” Judas pants between kisses and leans right back in, because Jesus is kissing him back, hands clutching at his back and driving into his hair and caressing his cheeks and cupping his face, seemingly all at once, as if Jesus cannot get enough of Judas either.

When they eventually break apart, Judas cannot look at Jesus, because he feels if he does, they might never stop again.

“Oh god,” he repeats and buries his face in his hands.

They are still greasy.


	22. Jesus

Kissing Judas feels like coming home and in a way it is just that. But all good things must come to an end and when this happens Jesus cannot form words. In fact, he is completely speechless, because while he knew Judas still cares for him, he had no idea that these feelings are also still there.

They make it to the bathroom eventually, when their legs stop shaking and they both shower and wash their hair, because the massage oil got everywhere and it is not the most comfortable thing to have in one’s hair.

Judas massages his head with the same precision and thoroughness as he did his hands and feet and Jesus feels like a new man afterwards. Perhaps he is.

He leans up into a kiss when Judas is done drying his hair, but he pulls away and a sick feeling settles in Jesus’ stomach.

Only later he realises, that Judas pulled back because of the knock at the door, but the sick feeling stays. Judas hurries towards the door and Jesus follows, pain shooting through his heels at every step, but he pushes it away.

Judas opens the door without looking through the spy hole and Jesus wants to remind him but it is too late and of course this is the time nobody innocent stands there.

This time it is Caiaphas himself.


	23. Caiaphas

“Evening, gentlemen,” he leads with. “May I come in?”

The shock on their faces is almost funny, but reasonable. Caiaphas figured it must be Judas, Jesus is staying with, given the name on the door read J.I. he was not wrong and now Judas apparently sees no other way than to invite Caiaphas in, so he gestures that much to him and closes the door, face white as a sheet.

“I come in peace,” Caiaphas starts and is not surprised when they do not stop being shocked. “But others might not,” he continues.

“Sit.”

It feels wrong to offer them a seat in their own home, but neither of them seems capable of much input of their own at the moment, so Caiaphas just takes the initiative. Judas stands in front of Jesus, extends an arm and together they walk towards the battered kitchen table. There are exactly two chairs there and they do not even match, but when Jesus sits on one of them, looking almost as battered as the table himself, Judas motions to the other one and speaks up for the first time.

“Please,” he says and the hostility and protectiveness in his voice are clear.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at such a late hour. But there are rumours and I just want to clear some things up.” Caiaphas says and looks at Judas. He does not worry about Jesus; Judas is clearly the more defensive at the moment.

“Go on?” Judas says and crosses his arms.

Caiaphas turns to Jesus.

“Somebody beat you up?”

Jesus nods.

“Why?”

“They recognised me, saw my scars.”

The movement turned over completely. Devoted followers of this cult would skin Jesus alive these days. Caiaphas knows Jesus is not lying, especially, when he sees the stitched up wound at his temple and the way Jesus clutches his wrist with trembling fingers.

Caiaphas looks over at Judas, who is glaring back at him.

“And you’ve been staying with Judas here then?”

“Yes,” Jesus says, voice weak.

“So your… issues are resolved now?” he asks, but instead of Jesus, Judas answers him.

“That’s none of your business. Why are you here?”

“To assess the threat. And looking like that, Jesus is no threat at all. I could push him over with my pinkie.”

“Don’t you touch him,” Judas growls and Caiaphas sees how his hands curl into fists at his sides, so he raises his hands and apologises.

“Sorry. Sorry, it’s just. Could you move?”

“What?”

“You can’t stay here. A delivery boy ratted you out to me. Eventually, they’ll get you.”

“So where do you suggest we go?” Judas asks.

“Anywhere. Preferably out of this city. Or this country. Just leave and settle somewhere quiet.”

Judas remains silent.

“I’m on your side here. Annas is out for Jesus. So are tons of regular people. They think he’s a threat and they will come for him again. And next time it might be more than a few stitches.”

“Okay.” It is not Judas who spoke, but Jesus.

Surprised, Caiaphas turns to face him.

“Really?” Judas interjects loudly. He is angry, but Jesus remains calm. _Some things never change_ , Caiaphas thinks to himself.

“Judas,” Jesus only says and Judas calms down. “On one condition,” Jesus continues, looking at Caiaphas.

“Yes?”

“I want a new cane.”

“You had a cane?” Judas yelps before Caiaphas can get anything out.

“You didn’t know?” he asks Judas. It is clear to him now, that the broken cane he found in that dumpster belonged to Jesus once.

“How did you know then?” Judas hisses at him.

“I found a broken one in a dumpster when I went after the rumour that your boyfriend is alive.”

Listening to them stammering about how they are not together is amusing enough, but Caiaphas needs to leave.

“I’ll have one sent to Mary of Magdala. I assume you are still in contact with her.” When Judas’ eyes widen in surprise, Caiaphas has enough answers and gets up to leave.

“I wish you two the best and hope to never see you again.”

The way Jesus reaches for Judas’ hand makes Caiaphas grin smugly, before he closes the door behind himself.


	24. Jesus

When he wakes up the next morning, Jesus is surprised to find that Judas is still sleeping in his arms. Slowly, he turns to look at his phone. 8:43.

Content with the time, Jesus closes his eyes again and relishes in the feeling of just holding Judas.

Only minutes later, Judas wakes up as well and rolls around to face Jesus. He smiles softly for a moment, but pulls away abruptly.

“Wait,” he rasps. “Do you want this?”

“What?” Jesus asks.

“Me.”

Jesus does not know what to say to this. He cannot remember a time when he did not want Judas. In fact, he wants nothing more than Judas and for him to be happy.

“Yes. How can you ask?”

“It’s been years. You didn’t want me anymore. And now? How should I know this is really something you’re okay with?”

Jesus shakes his head.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

“But you –“

“I only told you what I thought was best for us and… and you left. You just left.”

The tears in Jesus’ eyes have their own will. They will not be blinked away, so he gives up and lets them roll down his cheek.

“But you said we couldn’t be together anymore,” Judas protests weakly. “And look where that got us.” His voice is bitter now. He motions towards Jesus’ hand between them.

Jesus instinctively pulls it closer to him and clutches his wrist with the other hand; fingers trembling again.

“I understand,” he manages through the tears.

“Yeah,” Judas only says and rolls over to get out of bed. Jesus sees the tear tracks on his cheeks when Judas eventually leaves the bathroom and wonders why Judas cried. After all, it was Jesus who was just rejected because of his scars.

They have breakfast in silence, but when Judas reaches for Jesus’ hand, he pulls back. He cannot do this. It is either all or nothing.

“What?” Judas has the nerve to ask.

“You just told me you don’t want me and now you wanna hold hands?”

Judas frowned.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then tell me why you flinch every time you see my scars. Why do you look like you just got shot when you see how I walk or when I drop something? Do you think I don’t see how repulsive you find me? I know you kissed me yesterday but I also know that that was just because you didn’t see my wrists in that moment. Or my back. Or my heels. I’m nowhere near what you want and you can stop pretending.”

It feels good to let that go, but Judas looks at him like Jesus told him the earth was flat.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing. I just… I look at you like that because it hurts me to see your wounds and your scars.”

Jesus lets out a sarcastic laugh but it is laced with tears so it comes across rather pathetic.

“I haven’t seen your back since you arrived, save for glimpses yesterday and if there is one thing I’m not feeling when I look at your scars, it’s disgust or anything like it.”

Jesus wants to make another sarcastic noise but all he manages is a sob.

“They make me feel proud of you. Because I don’t know anybody else, who could have survived all that torture. I would only look at you with admiration. But I also feel incredibly bad, because all of your pain is my fault and I can never ever make it go away. I could never ever find you repulsive. You know why?”

Jesus shakes his head, looking anywhere but at Judas.

“Because I love you.”

The flood of tears seems unstoppable, but Judas gets up and pulls Jesus into a hug, keeping him upright just by wrapping his arms around him.

“I love you,” Judas repeats. “And I told you I wouldn’t stop just because we weren’t together anymore. I’ll never not love you.”

Jesus just sobs in reply.

“How can you not know that? You are so strong and I don’t know what I have done to still deserve you after all I did to you.”

Jesus cries until Judas’ shirt is wet and cold at his shoulder and there is probably snot in his hair, but they just stand there, in a tight embrace and Jesus wishes it never had to end.


	25. Caiaphas

Annas is storming into his office and it feels like Caiaphas is stuck in a time loop, but he says something different than last time, so Caiaphas just rolls his eyes. Again.

“I heard you checked that address?”

Caiaphas nods. “Yeah. Nothing there.”

“What?” Annas’ eyes look like they could roll out of his skull at any given second. “That boy lied?”

“Apparently so. I mean, I can take you next week and show you myself but for now you stay here and keep quiet. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumours.”

Annas opens his mouth.

“And that’s an order.”

When he closes the door, Caiaphas loosens his grip around the cane on his lap. And adds a last line to the note he then ties to it.

_Be very careful and take everything._

_-C_


	26. Mary

It is 4 PM when Mary puts on her shoes to leave and wraps herself in a long coat. She hides the cane underneath it; somebody delivered it earlier.

It is not comfortable to walk like this, but she manages and when she stands in front of Judas’ door, her way seems like it only took a few minutes.

She knocks and waits. Inside, there are footsteps, voices.

Then the door opens and for the first time since almost half a year, she sees Judas’ face. She would have thought that he would look worse, but he has cleaned up nicely. Behind him stands Jesus, tightly clutching Judas’ hand.

With his other, Judas pulls her inside and closes the door quickly. Then, he wraps his arm around her and buries his nose in her hair. He has always done that and Mary loves his hugs.

“I’m sorry, she blurts out. I’m so sorry. I know I broke your trust and I should never have done that, but Jesus was bad and I didn’t know if he’d always make it back to mine…” she drifts off and Judas pulls back from the embrace.

“Don’t worry, it all worked out. I never would have known without you.”

Mary smiles weakly and looks behind Judas, where Jesus is still clinging to his hand like a life-line.

“Thank god you’re okay,” she sighs and goes to hug him as well. Jesus lets go off Judas’ hand and hugs her back.

“You too.”

They explain their situation over tea and cookies and Mary is glad they were warned. It hurts to hear about their departure but at least they trust her enough to tell her at all. Mary can tell they have figured out some year-old problems and she is happy for them. It gives her hope that one day she will be able to do the same. When she leaves and passes the cane on to Jesus, she feels lighter, relieved of many sorrows.

Surprisingly, her way home passes as swiftly as her anxiety-filled way there.


	27. Judas

Judas gets up early. He empties his bank account and buys an old van. It is nothing he would ever do, but they have to leave and they will be homeless, for the time being, so this seems like the most logical thing.

He parks it directly in front of the door and trusts that Jesus has packed their most important items.

Sure enough, there are boxes full of pots, pans, and cutlery, shampoo, brushes, clothes, towels, books, and other paraphernalia all standing in the middle of the room. Judas stacks them up in the van; they will get rid of what they do not need soon enough. For now, the apartment has to be completely empty. Caiaphas was clear enough about that.

It almost pains Judas to drag the mattress across the street onto the junk pile where Jesus found the foldable chair, but he manages to part from it when he looks at Jesus who stands in the entrance to the flat and smiles at him warmly.

They take the chair.

Leaving is easier than Judas would have thought. How often he thought about leaving before, he cannot remember, but now that he is actually doing it, Judas finds that he is ready. Jesus places a hand over Judas’, fingers trembling, like they do most of the time, but this simple action gives Judas the hope he needs to leave everything behind without sorrow. After all he has the most important thing.

When Judas stops for the night, they are in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields. Nobody will find them here. And with this in mind, Judas leans in and gently cups Jesus’ face between his hands.

“I love you. And I always will.”

When their lips meet, Judas knows without having to hear it, that Jesus loves him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue.


	28. EPILOGUE: Judas

Judas checks his phone for the time and his eyes drift to the date.

Almost eight months have passed since they left to find a new life.

And it took them less time to find one than Judas would have thought. Barely two months after their journey started they stayed at a farm overnight. The owner was old and the farm was being run by her daughter.

Long story short: When Jesus and Judas mentioned their search for work and a home, they were offered both on the spot. And they knew better than to deny the offer.

They have their own part of the house with most of their own household goods and some new, and have now made it a home completely their own.

“You coming?” Jesus calls from the bedroom and Judas grins, because he promised him a massage  which had Jesus impatient all day.

“Yeah, one second,” he replies and gets the bottle of oil from a drawer. There is not much left, but Judas already ordered some more after he deciphered the label.

Smiling, he makes his way to their bedroom. Jesus has spread a towel over the sheets and sits there, grinning. He has been letting his hair grow again and it is beginning to look fluffy around his face; he is more beautiful than ever. Judas climbs on the bed and takes Jesus’ face between his hands, discarding the bottle next to them.

“Are you even aware of how beautiful you are?” Judas asked, and he was sure his eyes gave all his emotions away.

“You tell me every day,” Jesus replies, but he still blushes at the compliment.

“And I’ll never stop,” Judas adds.

He leans in and every kiss is as exhilarating as their first. And their second first.

Perhaps they just have infinite first kisses, Judas thinks and grins against Jesus’ lips.

“You promised me something,” Jesus mumbles.

“I said I was gonna make you feel good,” Judas replies. ”Does this not make you feel good?”

Jesus pulls back just so Judas can see him roll his eyes.

“You’re terrible,” he says.

“I know.”

Judas reaches for the oil and shuffles down to sit next to Jesus’ feet. They are getting better, slowly but surely. On good days, Jesus can navigate the house without his cane. On bad days, he wants to stay in bed completely. But together they make it through good and bad days alike.

Judas knows what Jesus likes and what he needs; his hands are almost working by themselves and Judas is not afraid to enjoy his view.

Jesus knows, he is the view and he acts like it. Propped up against a pillow, he has thrown his head back, mouth slightly agape and he does not hold back anything.

And when Judas is done with Jesus’ hands and he still does not open his eyes, he starts to kiss Jesus’ neck and suck marks just above his collarbone. The moans he gets in return are more than welcome and Judas kisses his way up to the corner of Jesus’ mouth and lingers there, until Jesus turns his head, pulls Judas closer and kisses him hard.

“We’re not done yet,” Jesus says and Judas laughs at him, because that is not his fault.

“You know you have to move and undress yourself, so I can even get to your back?” he asks and Jesus punches his arm in response.

“Alright I’ll do that then.”

He pushes Judas off him and grins, while he attempts to pull his shirt over his head. It takes him a couple of tries and his grin turns into a frown, but he eventually manages and meets Judas’ eyes smugly.

“I wanna see you do that with holes in your wrists.”

Judas grimaces. He does not like it when Jesus jokes about his injuries.

“Sorry. I love you.”

Jesus proceeds to pull down his trousers and Judas’ eyebrows shoot up.

“What are you doing?”

“You said I should get undressed, so…” He grins at Judas and tosses the trousers over the side of the bed. His dick is half-hard already, but Jesus ignores it and turns over to lie on his stomach, wiggling on the towel in anticipation.

Judas takes the invitation and kneels down next to him. He coats his hands in oil and presses down on Jesus’ shoulders, hard. The moan he gets in return is perfect, so Judas does it again and works his way down Jesus’ back. These scars healed better than his hands or feet. They are bulging and thick; more of his back is scar than skin, but for the most part they do not inconvenience Jesus, are tender and flexible regardless. Judas feels no less bad about those scars than any of the others but he knows he does not have to be especially careful about them.

Jesus’ words pull him from those thoughts.

“Don’t you think, you’d have better access if you… I don’t know, had me between your legs?” Jesus is more open about sex now than ever and Judas does not mind in the least, but he is still getting used to this merciless teasing.

“Good idea,” he grins and pulls away.

“What are you doing?” Jesus pouts.

“I’m getting undressed. Wouldn’t wanna get all that oil on my clothes.”

Feeling Jesus squirm between his legs does not leave Judas unaffected, so he tries to concentrate on the massage. But Jesus seems to have other plans, so Judas lets his hands slide down Jesus’ sides and underneath him, twisting a nipple, then moving on to trace the lines of Jesus’ neck, leaning down to kiss it. Jesus moans and lifts up his ass, pressing up against Judas’ dick and at once, their mood shifts from playful to entirely serious. Judas moves back and spreads Jesus’ legs, dragging a slick finger over the tight hole.

“Yes,” comes a moan from Jesus and Judas grins, when he pushes in and Jesus gasps.

He feels him loosen his muscles, forcing himself to relax, so he begins to slowly pull his finger out and thrust back in, hearing Jesus’ little moans with delight. He adds a second finger soon, angling them differently with each thrust and soon enough Jesus is panting, throaty noises spilling over his lips. Judas pulls out and runs his other hand down Jesus’ back.

“You wanna turn around?”

Jesus does so and grins at Judas. Sweaty streaks of hair are sticking to his forehead and his cheeks are flushed, eyes dark, but shining with love.

Judas reaches between Jesus’ legs and gives his dick a few strokes before he takes him in his mouth, circling his tongue around the tip, tasting him, before he takes Jesus all in, hearing him cry out in pleasure above him. Unsteady fingers bury themselves into Judas’ hair, but paired with Jesus’ barely suppressed thrusts upwards and his moans, it is the most exquisite sensation.

“Stop, stop,” eventually comes from Jesus. “I need you to stop and put your dick in me now or I swear… I swear…”

“What?” Judas asks breathlessly and looks up at Jesus.

“I don’t know what I wanted to say I just need you in me.”

Judas sits up and gives himself a few strokes, before he lines himself up with Jesus’ hole.

As he pushes in, he leans forward, watching Jesus closely: The way his mouth falls open in a breathy moan, the way his hands come up around Judas’ back, fingertips trembling against his skin, the way his eyes roll back, dramatically. Judas could never love another person like this and with that thought, he begins to move.

Jesus opens his eyes and stares directly into Judas’ soul, before he moves a hand to the back of Judas’ head and pulls him down into an open-mouthed kiss.

Jesus moans into the kiss and Judas stops holding back, thrusting in hard and deep. He reaches down and closes his fingers around Jesus’ dick, pumping while Jesus bucks up into his hands.

When Jesus throws back his head, Judas starts kissing his neck, feeling the moans under his lips and then Jesus comes all over Judas’ hand and onto his stomach and the feeling pulls Judas over the edge as well.

He does feel bad when he collapses onto Jesus, but he blacks out for a moment and when he comes to, Jesus is drawing shaky patterns into his skin and when Judas pulls out and cuddles close to him, Jesus smiles the most angelic of smiles and kisses Judas’ forehead.

“We should get cleaned up,” Judas mumbles against Jesus’ collarbone even while he closes his eyes.

“Later,” Jesus replies and pulls Judas closer.

“I love you,” is the last thing Judas hears before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay farmer(s)!! Judas does the work, Jesus helps around the house. This is the best ending.
> 
> Also, half-long-haired Ola Salo Jesus is the cutest thing ever and you can fight me on that (I will win)

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations! You have made it to the end!  
> Wild ride, huh.  
> I hope there aren't any very obvious plot-holes and/or other errors.  
> Thank you so much for reading and please leave me kudos and/or comments.  
> Love you!


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